


Three Men and a Chance at Love

by kattahj



Category: Three Men and a Baby (1987)
Genre: 1980s, F/M, Family, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 02:50:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kattahj/pseuds/kattahj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Although Michael was the one who went to clubs and had been known to march in parades, Jack was the one who initiated the actual flirting, delighted at the opportunity to try something new. He was also the one who roped Peter into it. Quite possibly Peter would have lived out his entire life in middle-of-the-road, no-experiments heterosexuality, had not Jack been there to convince him otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Men and a Chance at Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [threeguesses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/threeguesses/gifts).



Although Michael was the one who went to clubs and had been known to march in parades, Jack was the one who initiated the actual flirting, delighted at the opportunity to try something new. He was also the one who roped Peter into it. Quite possibly Peter would have lived out his entire life in middle-of-the-road, no-experiments heterosexuality, had not Jack been there to convince him otherwise.

”Are you saying you've _never_ kissed a man?” Jack asked one day at the breakfast table. ”Not even when drunk, or out of sheer joy, or for a performance?”

”I'm an architect, not an actor,” Peter reminded him.

”That's no reason to be boring. Go on, kiss Michael! Live a little!”

Michael rested his chin on his fist and rolled his eyes at Peter to show that he didn't need to pay any attention to what Jack was saying. This didn't prevent Peter from going beet red.

”Okay, fine,” Jack said when neither of the other men moved. ”I'll kiss you.”

He moved in for the kiss, and Michael wondered if perhaps he should step in and prevent a sexual assault, but while Peter did get a look of panic in his eyes, he didn't back away. On the contrary, he deepened the kiss, his hands going for Jack's hips.

Eventually, Jack broke free and laughed. ”See, Mike? I bet we can make a wild and wicked boy of him yet.”

”That's great, Jack,” Michael said. ”Maybe in return he can teach you about boundaries.”

”Oh, don't pout.” Jack grinned at him, while Peter rubbed his moustache, his face still an unusual color. ”It gives your face an adorable puppy-dog look, but it's really not necessary. I love you too, sport.”

”Very funny, Jack,” Michael said, but he couldn't help smiling.

 

* * *

 

Just like Jack was the first one to flirt, and the first one to initiate kisses, he was also the one who first took Michael to bed on a drunken night, with enough gusto that it seemed as if he'd done nothing but practice for years. Which maybe he had, Michael thought. After all, who could tell what he got up to all those nights out late?

But Michael was the one to help Peter with his little baby steps towards acceptance of their unusual situation. He was the one who let this tentative straight guy figure out exactly what did and didn't feel good, and he was the one who ended up on his knees, caressing Peter's thighs, and saying, ”It's okay. If you want me to stop, just say so.”

Peter didn't ask him to stop. He did, however, show up in Michael's room the next day with his hands shoved into his pockets and the deepest of all deep frowns, and he asked, ”The women you go out with... do you tell them? About the men you've been with?”

Michael put his pencil down and answered honestly: ”Sometimes. Not on the first date anymore. Some women think it means I ought to be their new gay best friend.”

He could see the question lingering in Peter's mind: _”Don't they do that anyway?”_ and was grateful that it remained unasked.

”Is this about Rebecca?” he asked.

”Yeah.” Peter paced the small room, looking very helpless for such a big guy. ”I don't know how to tell her, but I don't know how _not_ to tell her, either. We've been seeing each other for years, so that's pretty serious, but we're also seeing other people, so that's not so serious, and I just don't know. I don't always tell her about my other dates, but it feels like fraud not to tell her this.”

”Here's the thing, Pete,” Michael said. ”When it comes to Rebecca, in particular, and not just some girl who you go out with once and never again, there's really just one question to consider. Do you want to tell her, or do you want to trust Jack's discretion?”

Peter stared at him, and then turned on his heel, striding across the apartment. A door slam was followed by quick footsteps down the stairs.

A couple of hours later he showed up again, sporting an expression of relief mingled with disappointment.

”She was okay with it,” he said, and that was that.

 

* * *

 

The questions, and the doubt, that was all Peter, until the day Michael was visiting Jack backstage and Jack asked, ”Are you and Peter getting serious?”

Michael had to ponder that, because _serious_ encompassed everything about Peter's approach to this relationship, except maybe how far it had reached. It was definitely more serious than what he had with the other lovers that came and went, but was that the right kind of qualifier? ”I don't know. Are you and I getting serious?”

”I don't know.” Jack was looking uncomfortable.

”Are you and he getting serious?” That was the least appealing option, to Michael's mind.

”Less serious than us, I think. At least there's not so much happening on the sex front.” Jack made a grimace and drew makeup lines along the resulting wrinkles. ”Thing is, he's starting to question his sexual identity. Should I be doing that?”

”Not if you don't want to.”

”I don't see the point, really. It is what it is, right?”

”Right.”

”On the other hand, maybe I'm too glib about all this.”

”You usually are,” Michael agreed. ”But so what? That's you.”

”And I'm a terrific guy!” Jack finished his makeup and sighed in satisfaction, smiling at the mirror. ”I'm glad we had this talk. Now where are my dentures?”

Michael handed him the old-man rubber teeth, and Jack put them in, goosing Michael in the process.

”Thanks, Mike,” he said, putting them in. ”I'd kiss you but... raincheck, okay?”

He went out beaming, and his performance that night gave him positive mentions in three separate newspapers, though one of them got his name wrong.

 

* * *

 

With the baby presence, all thoughts on romance or sex took the backseat. Any energy not spent on caring for the baby or trying to get at least a minimum of work done, Michael used up thinking of creative ways of killing Jack.

Even so, when he saw Peter lying splayed out on his back across the bed like a washed-up piece of driftwood, Mary lying peacefully curled up asleep on his chest, Michael felt such a powerful ache in his heart that he had to lie down next to them, with extreme caution so as to not wake Mary.

”Hey,” Peter mumbled, eyes half shut. ”I'm warning you, this is a ticking bomb. Adorable, but ticking. You won't get much sleep, lying here.”

”I know,” Michael said and kissed Peter lightly on the ear. ”But I'll get to spend some time with a cute baby and my very favorite person.”

”What about Jack?”

”Definitely not my favorite right now.”

Peter started to laugh, then hurried to suck it in. ”Don't. She'll wake up.”

Michael curled in, listening to Peter's steady breaths and Mary's more quiet sniffing. ”I could get used to this.”

”Yeah, if it were always like this,” Peter said with hard-earned cynicism, and closed his eyes completely.

A little while later, Mary woke both herself and the two men with loud screaming. Michael took her out to be fed, and contemplated the merits of an old-fashioned pirate-style keelhauling, for when Jack came home.

 

* * *

 

”Are you clean?” Michael asked Jack soon after he got home from Turkey. Peter was taking care of the dishes, but stopped at the question, looking from Michael to Jack with concern.

”Mary puked on my shirt,” Jack said. ”I think I got most of it off, but I really ought to change to another. I'm just too damned tired.”

”That's not what I meant.”

”What, then?” Jack caught sight of Peter's serious expression. ”If I'm on drugs? Guys, I told you, I had no idea what Paul wanted with that package.”

”That's not what I meant either,” Michael said.

Peter filled in, quietly, ”Have you been tested for HIV?”

”What!? No! What brings this on? Have you?”

”I have,” Michael said, and looked over to Peter, who shook his head.

”No. I probably should.”

”See? He's not tested. Why are you singling me out for?”

”Because I take precautions. Knowing Peter, I'm willing to bet he takes precautions. You...” Michael gestured towards Mary in her bassinet. ”You evidently do not take precautions.”

”What, one mistake a year ago constitutes risk behavior now?”

”Is it just one mistake, though?” Michael asked. ”Do you use condoms?”

”Sure!” Jack said, hesitated, then admitted, ”Most of the time.”

”Just take the damned test, Jack,” Peter said. ”I'll take it with you.”

The others paused, knowing how it would appear if the two walked in together. Peter shrugged.

”It's not just us anymore,” he said quietly. ”We have to be responsible, for Mary's sake.”

”Okay,” Jack said. ”Okay, I'll do it.”

The weeks that followed were tense, and when both tests came back negative, they all felt it was cause for celebration.

That was the first time they ended up engaging in sexual activities with Mary in the house, and the first time they did it all three together.

It remained a rare occasion on both counts, but not unique.

 

* * *

 

They never discussed what would or wouldn't change when Sylvia moved in along with Mary, but they all seemed to hold their breath for the first month. Even Jack reined himself in, for a while, keeping the flirting to a minimum. Then, little by little, as if he couldn't stand it any longer, he brought it back up to his former level, only now Sylvia was on the receiving end, too.

And one day, when Sylvia was out for a walk with Mary and Peter was inspecting a building site, Jack asked Michael, ”Hey, it's just us here, what do you say?”

There was no mistaking his intentions. Michael blinked and muted the TV. ”Here? Now?”

”Yes! I don't want to do it with the baby in the house.”

”Right, yes.” Michael thought about that. ”What about Sylvia? Are you two...?”

”Okay, here's what I think,” Jack said. ”We have time for sex, or we have time for a long, serious discussion about where this relationship... s... relationships are going. We don't have time for both. And I'd _really_ like it to be sex. It's been way too long. What do you say?”

Jack's tone of voice reminded Michael of just how long it had been for him too, and what his body thought about that.

”Yeah,” he said, pushing away the coffee table to stand up quicker. ”Sex sounds good.”

 

* * *

 

Michael couldn't quite figure out what Jack wanted. He continued his flirtations with all three room-mates, and encouraged Peter and Michael to have some alone time, and made comments concerning Peter and Sylvia that made Peter's ears burn red and Sylvia give Jack stern looks.

It was only at Christmas time, when Jack practically pushed Michael under the mistletoe with Sylvia, that he clued on.

He dutifully kissed Sylvia, and then made sure to get Jack alone at the first possible moment to confront him.

”Here's the thing, Jack,” he said. ”Two people falling in love and making it work is a beautiful thing in itself. Three people is a goddamned miracle, if you ask me. Four... is asking a bit much.”

”I just want us to be happy together,” Jack said.

”We are happy! At least I'm happy. And I think Sylvia's happy. And here's the thing: We don't have to kiss each other to be happy. I just don't click with her that way.”

Jack looked so glum at these news that Michael felt as if he'd told him that Santa wasn't real.

”Don't get me wrong,” he said. ”I love Sylvia. She's a wonderful woman, and she's Mary's mother, which makes her about the most amazing person in all of existance. But sexually... eh.”

”Did you just 'eh' Sylvia?” Jack asked, affronted. ”What, she's not pretty enough for you?”

”She's gorgeous. I'm just not in love with her. Peter, on the other hand, is over the moon. And maybe that's the way it's going to be. Either way, you don't get to force the issue. No more mistletoes.”

Jack sighed, and reluctantly agreed, ”Okay.”

”Good.” Something bumped against Michael's leg, and he leaned down to pick up Mary, who had crawled up to him. ”Hey, sweetie! Did you come all this way yourself? Oh, you're such a strong girl! Look at those muscles!”

 

* * *

 

Their arrangement might be unusual, but it was one of the most functional, settled families Michael had ever seen; definitely an improvement on his own childhood. Mary grew up to call them all by name and learned the words ”biological” and ”honorary” if anybody asked – and a lot of people did, but it never seemed to faze her. Not until she was five, and the people who asked were her peers. She came home confused and upset, and it led to various hushed conversations among the adults, culminating one late night with Sylvia in tears.

”I can't do this anymore!” she confessed. ”It's not fair to Mary. I don't want her having to defend us against her classmates, or worse, their parents. And what about later, when she's a teenager? When they start snickering and calling it an orgy – which for all intents and purposes, it is! I'm sorry, it has to end. I can't control what you do, of course, but leave me out of it.”

Her voice breaking, she rushed up to her room and closed the door.

”What a mess,” Jack said, running his fingers through his hair.

Peter had risen from his seat and stood with his hands hanging and an expression of utter heartbreak on his face. Michael couldn't bear to see him so sad and did what he always did: walked up and wrapped an arm around him. This time, though, Peter shrugged it off and gave a tiny, silent shake of his head before leaving the room.

”Come here,” Jack said, reaching out a hand instead, and Michael welcomed the touch, following Jack into his bedroom, his brain so numb that he didn't even realize the implications until Jack closed the door and pushed him down on the bed.

”Wait,” he said, ”I thought...”

”Sylvia is right,” Jack said hoarsely, ”she can't control what we do. And I'm not going to lose you too. I'm not.”

He lay down on the bed and kissed Michael, hard.

”What about Mary?” Michael managed to ask.

”Like she'll be the only kid in New York with a dad who bats for both teams. Please.”

Michael returned the kiss and figured that Jack had a point. The thought of giving up Peter hurt like hell, but there was no reason to give up Jack too. They could make this work.

 

* * *

 

This new, mostly platonic deal was awkward, and painful, and it made Mary give them puzzled, worried glances, but for a while it held together. Michael thought it might eventually settle into a new status quo, not as good as the old one, but tolerable, because they still had Mary.

When Sylvia declared that she was marrying Edward and moving back to England with Mary, it all fell apart, and after the two left, Peter did the same. Michael found himself holding Peter, this big strong guy, who cried so hard he could barely speak.

”I'm sorry,” Peter got out between the sobs. ”I've been an asshole to you. But it's just... I love them... so much. I didn't want to lose you... but if I'm not Sylvia's... then Mary's not mine. She's not my little girl. She's just Jack's. I'm not anyone. I don't have any rights. I wanted to be her dad, and I wanted Sylvia to be...”

”Yeah,” Michael said, rocking Peter as he struggled to keep his own tears down. ”I know.”

”I didn't mean to throw you under the bus.”

”Hey, I'd throw you under the bus too, for Mary,” Michael said. ”Jack too. In a heartbeat.”

Despite his tears, Peter gave a scoff of laughter.

Would time heal these wounds? Michael wondered. He didn't think so. Things couldn't return to the way they had been, not with half of Peter's heart on the other side of the Atlantic, and with a sizeable chunk of his and Jack's there too, for Mary's sake.

He hoped that she, at least, would be all right.

 

* * *

 

”All right,” Sylvia said, in the dingy English hotel room the men had settled into after leaving the castle. ”I was wrong. I admit it. Because I can't bear to have the two of you looking like this at my wedding. Our wedding.”

She laced her fingers with Peter, and he gave her a look of utter adoration.

”Looking like what?” Jack asked.

”Like I stole something from you. Which I guess I did. Two somethings. But I'm giving them back.”

Peter frowned. ”You're giving me _back_?”

”I'm just saying...” She laughed and shook her head. ”We were happy. We were bloody _happy_ , and so was Mary, and even the psychologist said she was well-adjusted. So altogether, I'd rather have Mary grow up to wonder why her parents are weird, than wonder why they're miserable.”

”Good to hear it, sweetheart,” Jack said and gave Sylvia a kiss, before giving Peter one too, making both of them laugh.

Sylvia looked over to Michael.

”What?” he asked.

She raised her eyebrows expectantly and nodded towards Peter. ”I'm not going to mind.”

Michael wet his lips. ”But are you?” he asked Peter.

In reply, Peter took his hand and yanked him close, kissing him softly but thoroughly.

”Well, then,” Michael said, leaning his forehead against Peter. ”I guess we're back to normal. Or really fucking brilliantly abnormal.”

 

* * *

 

A few weeks later, back in New York, Michael was having some difficulty finding the right bitter tone for a Johnny Cool cartoon, since he was in such a great mood himself. He was on the way to what might be a pretty good punchline when Jack appeared in the doorway.

”I think we should make you official,” he declared.

”What?” Michael asked.

”See, I've been thinking. All this came about because people didn't know what the hell to label us. Or, well, you two. I'm Mary's dad and come conveniently pre-labelled.”

”Right,” Michael said, putting his work aside to give his full attention to this conversation.

”Now Peter's her step-dad. Another good, solid label that people understand. But you're still left in nowhere. We know who you are, Mary knows who you are, but how does everyone else? We need something solid. If Sylvia goes jittery again – which I don't think she will, but she might – or if, God forbid, Mary does, we need something we can point to. Honorary dad is sweet and all, but it's not going to cut it long term.”

This was making Michael very nervous, and would have saddened him as well if Jack hadn't looked so excited. ”Can't I be the cool uncle?”

Even as he said the words, he knew how inadequate they were, and Jack shook his head.

”You've changed way too many diapers to be the cool uncle.”

”Okay, then,” Michael said. ”You obviously have something in mind.”

”It's simple, really. You're my boyfriend.”

”I'm your boyfriend,” Michael repeated flatly.

”Right!” Jack said, spreading his arms, waiting for the audience to cheer.

”But I'm not.”

”Last Saturday says differently.”

”And the Saturday before that, you were out with some blonde,” Michael reminded him. ”Was she your boyfriend too? Girlfriend, I mean.”

”Oh, come on, you know you mean way more to me than that.”

Michael had to swallow the smile of affection that was working its way up. ”No need to get emotional.”

”You are pretty much my boyfriend already,” Jack said. ”It's not like anyone else holds the title. Daddy, Daddy's boyfriend, Mommy, Mommy's husband. It's nice and normal – relatively speaking. It'll work.”

”What about Sylvia and Peter?”

”They don't like me half as much as they like each other. And I know you and Peter are all cuddly with each other, but let's face it, you and I have 90% of the sex around here. Or the sex out of wedlock, anyway.”

”I think you're underestimating the amount of sex I've had with Peter,” Michael said. The smile now definitely wouldn't stay away.

”You blowing him isn't sex.”

”Sure it is. Oral sex. See? It's right there in the name.”

”Okay, fine, we have 80% of the sex out of wedlock.” Jack pulled Michael out of his chair and put both hands on his shoulder. ”And you're my boyfriend. It doesn't change anything. It's just what we tell the world.”

”You want to tell the world I'm your boyfriend?” Michael asked, his smile now in serious danger of splitting his face in two.

”No need to get emotional,” Jack reminded him.

”Okay. I can live with that.”

They kissed, one of those patented Jack Holden, Hollywood-wannabe, sweep-you-off-your-feet kisses, and whatever misanthropic punchline Michael had been creating for the cartoon was gone from his mind, but that didn't even matter.


End file.
